I miss you, especially at the craziest moments.
Like I’ll be driving along and picture you there: side-seat driving while telling ridiculous stories.
“That’s where the woman was brutally attacked by a pack of rabid koalas*.”
(What??? Where??? What???)
And then, “Hey! You missed your turn.”
I’ll laugh, rub the tears from my eyes, signal to make the u-turn.
Wish you were here, (so I could tell you how annoyed I am with you right now.)
Thanks Rochelle and Bill for this week’s prompt.
This picture reminded me of my dad and three of his most distinctive traits: 1) broken down stuff that he definitely planned to “fix one day,” 2) long, rambling stories you knew he was just looking for a reason to tell, and 3) the infamous “scenic route” detour with narrative asides that sometimes turned out to be true about this or that corner where the Crazy Thing Happened.
*No actual koalas were harmed in the writing of this story.